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 Love of my life, you
Are lost and I am
Young again.
A few years pass.
The air fills With girlish music; In the front yard The apple tree is Studded with blossoms.
I try to win you back, That is the point Of the writing.
But you are gone forever, As in Russian novels, saying A few words I don't remember- How lush the world is, How full of things that don't belong to me- I watch the blossoms shatter, No longer pink, But old, old, a yellowish white- The petals seem To float on the bright grass, Fluttering slightly.
What a nothing you were, To be changed so quickly Into an image, an odor- You are everywhere, source Of wisdom and anguish.

by Louise Gluck
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